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After Pompeii, and: Following the Animals, and: Sprawl, and: Punishment

After Pompeii, and: Following the Animals, and: Sprawl, and: Punishment After Pompeii When the rivers sing in this country of drunk rivers, the ovens dance; the city's heart splayed on that cobbled lane was transplanted from Pompeii, the Pompeii great rains fell coins fullones took and spun into silk, so we that walk in daylight are walking on the cries of a wild feast; when we walk the smoke-pummeled sky, women sizzle like seltzer and bells striking noon on terraces. The squares are melting gelatos; pageants of tankers glide to General Sulla's order; war pigeons drop Morse to submarines buried under a Medici's robe; an out-of-work professor, who is also an assassin, hangs a bag of oranges on a tree in the park, crosses his legs and sleeps and dreams an orchard of orange trees on the Orange Blossom Coast. The alley shadows are not shy: tenderness opens in their cool darkness and under flowering marquees and in cafés and pizza joints; tenderness is aordable, and we spend like nothing, for the day when a breeze shakes us in twilight, like it shook the leaves on the villa of the baker Terentius Neo--but that was no breeze; a sigh of the first flame from an oil lamp licking http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

After Pompeii, and: Following the Animals, and: Sprawl, and: Punishment

Prairie Schooner , Volume 87 (2) – Jul 21, 2013

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 the University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X
Publisher site
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Abstract

After Pompeii When the rivers sing in this country of drunk rivers, the ovens dance; the city's heart splayed on that cobbled lane was transplanted from Pompeii, the Pompeii great rains fell coins fullones took and spun into silk, so we that walk in daylight are walking on the cries of a wild feast; when we walk the smoke-pummeled sky, women sizzle like seltzer and bells striking noon on terraces. The squares are melting gelatos; pageants of tankers glide to General Sulla's order; war pigeons drop Morse to submarines buried under a Medici's robe; an out-of-work professor, who is also an assassin, hangs a bag of oranges on a tree in the park, crosses his legs and sleeps and dreams an orchard of orange trees on the Orange Blossom Coast. The alley shadows are not shy: tenderness opens in their cool darkness and under flowering marquees and in cafés and pizza joints; tenderness is aordable, and we spend like nothing, for the day when a breeze shakes us in twilight, like it shook the leaves on the villa of the baker Terentius Neo--but that was no breeze; a sigh of the first flame from an oil lamp licking

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Jul 21, 2013

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